A Hogwarts Christmas Carol
by AutumnKiss
Summary: Three Spirits of Christmas visit SS after he makes a bitter declaration. Their mission? To show the snarky wizard the error of his ways. Professor HG is drafted by accident, but sees a side of Snape she never knew existed. Alt-U!
1. Decorations and Declarations

******2012 Update:** Minor changes only

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**_Disclaimer: _**_All rights reserved by JKR and Charles Dickens.  
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Professor Snape feebly listened to the table conversation as he toyed with his fig pudding. The teachers were all aglow over the holiday decorations and complimented the Headmistress on a job well done. McGonagall had insisted on using vibrant colors that year and encouraged the House Elves not to skimp on the holly red and gold. They did not disappoint. Even the tree was gold! A deep, romantic gold with brilliant gold ornaments and holly red trim.

Incidentally, the decorations blended very well with the room's wood motif, but it amazed Severus that no one noticed how much it favored Gryffindor. It was as if Godric Gryffindor himself defecated the whole thing into existence! How typical.

"Is the pudding to your liking, Severus?" asked Minerva, noting that he had barely touched his dessert except to stir it about.

Snape mustered just enough esteem to force a semi-smile. "Yes … it's fine," he answered; his tone void of any real sincerity.

"I think it's the colors," the Runes Professor jokingly interjected. "I'm sure that Professor Snape hates them. They probably strike him as Gryffindor-ish."

Snape shot Granger a contemptuous scowl. Yes, what she said was true, but that didn't give her the right to say it! More importantly, the Headmistress was addressing him!

"Nonsense! Severus, tell Hermione that isn't true," said Minerva under a chortle. After a moment of silence, the table slowly looked over. "Severus?"

"True?" he stalled, glancing to and from the instigator testily. "Yes – to a large degree, the colors favor Gryffindor House. Some might even suggest on purpose. Not that I ever would."

"Aloud," Hermione coughed, drawing another scornful look from the Potions Master.

The lines on McGonagall's face deepened.

"Professor, don't be ridiculous!" She said indignantly. "I would never show favoritism!"

For the most part, the table agreed, but there were a few, namely Flitwick and Pomfrey, who did not. The Headmistress observed their unwillingness to nod and confronted their suspicions with an explanation.

"I instructed the elves to be more vibrant this year. Yes, I encouraged them to select from a certain palette, but they are holiday colors!" She ardently defended.

"Mm, I don't see any green," said Snape, taking full advantage of the wavering support. "Isn't green a Christmas color?"

"Green would clash," Hermione offered. "The overall effect works much better the way it is. Next, I suppose you'll recommend silver and bronze decorations? Maybe black?"

Severus set down his fork and reached for his wine glass. "Interior decoration isn't my forte. I humbly submit to your expertise, but do not deny that this room has a Gryffindor theme," he said calmly, his voice dripping with rich subtext.

Both witches swelled with indignation.

"Severus! You find something to complain about every Christmas! Last year, you had a fit when I asked you to assist Hagrid with the gifts. Must you be so … so …" the Headmistress hedged, desperate for the right word.

"So miserable!" Hermione finished.

"Thank you, Professor," she nobly added.

Snape gawked at the angry hens for several seconds, and then slowly, his rhythmic breathing morphed into a sinister chuckle. The season for giving his colleagues a hard time was not complete until he got under Minerva's skin. He was beginning to doubt whether he would be successful that year. Since the arrival of Little-Miss-Perfect, he was finding it more and more difficult to challenge the natural optimism that followed her wherever she went.

Hermione blushed with regret when she realized what the Professor had done. He had lured them out of the Christmas spirit and into his grey mindset. Now they were just as annoyed as he was! His mockery only made his victory that much worse.

Scoffing loudly, Hermione looked away and returned to her dessert. Minerva happily followed her example and dropped the debate. Neither was willing to serve as the Grinch's entertainment.

* * *

Professor Snape patrolled the midnight corridor in search of anything suspicious. Contrary to wide belief, he was not the disciplinarian he had been in his younger days. He had grown older, more settled, and far less interested in the affairs of students; however, that fact didn't prevent him from doing his job or protecting the brats against their will. He preferred to spend his free time reading, or contemplating new spells, rather than dishing out nonsensical assignments to everyday boneheads. Only real troublemakers warranted detention with him anymore, but rarely did he forgo a browbeating.

Severus found the hallways, niches, and classrooms in order. Not surprising considering most of the student body was on holiday leave, but lucky for him, he did happen across a couple of second years sneaking up the stairwell. This little discovery would go onto support his argument that night and morning patrols were necessary. Perhaps after he had collected enough examples, Minerva would mandate it!

"... therefore, children have no business wandering the castle at night," he finished, wrapping up a five-minute lecture on past mishaps. "Twenty points from Hufflepuff, Bennett – and the same for you, Cullen! Now back to bed!"

The frightened youths turned and scurried back downstairs.

"Nice one, Professor ... but scaring them into believing they could disappear, never to be seen or heard from again was a little harsh."

Snape closed his eyes and cringed. His patrol had been going quite smoothly until then. Leave it to the Runes Professor to find him in the home stretch.

"Oh, it's you," he sourly commented, swinging back towards the witch. "I suppose you feel sorry for them?"

"It's Christmas Eve! They're excited. They want to experience the magic!"

"Is there some reason why they can't do that in their dormitory?"

Hermione shook her head and smiled. The wizard had not changed an iota since graduation, or school for that matter! Yes, everyone viewed him with kinder, more sympathetic eyes, despite his efforts to dispel the words 'loving hero' from their lips, but he was still a testy git.

"Honestly, Professor Snape, I have to wonder if you were ever a child!"

Sighing, the wizard rolled away and began a heavy march down the corridor.

"Is that McGonagall, I hear? Perhaps, you should run along and see if her hat needs fluffing," he sneered.

The hint should have served as a warning to the witch, but like many Gryffindors, she did not heed it. Why was he such an arse? Did he ever break from being a jerk, even on Christmas? She had always treated him with respect, even more now that she was his equal, but he still regarded her with distain.

Hermione broke from her spot and caught up to the wizard.

"Why do you insist on ruining Christmas? Do you hate it that much? And while we're on the subject, why don't you like me? What have I ever done to you?" she asked, twisting to see his hawkish profile as she struggled to match his stride.

Amused by her frankness, Severus stopped and faced the witch. He had struck a chord, a very tender cord, he wagered. Could it be that she desired his approval? Though this tickled him a bit, he was clever enough not to show it; at least, not until he had drawn blood.

"For starters," he exhaled. "I do not hate Christmas, nor do I set out to ruin it for the students. Those boys were breaking the rules! I punished them as 'we' teachers are required to do. Furthermore, Christmas is a useless holiday, esteemed by sentimental fools and greedy entrepreneurs!"

Hermione launched a retort, but a single finger cut her short.

"As for your other questions, you only just arrived at Hogwarts and already, you are dictating to others how they should think and behave. Just last week, you arrogantly suggested to Hagrid that he should utilize a written lesson plan. Lest my memory fails me, you also rearranged the House Elves work schedule in an effort to make them more efficient. If that wasn't bad enough, you're always babbling on about your ridiculously boring classes, as if anyone cared, and you demand respect rather than waiting your turn!"

"Granger, I'm sure that you are a _competent_ educator, but Merlin as my witness you are the most self-righteous, boring, pretentious, know-it-all ever to have graced this school! Now, ask me again why it is that I do not like you!"

Snape folded his arms and swiveled knowingly. His smirk was as meaningful as his words and twice as ruthless.

Hermione searched for a reply. "I ... I had no idea that you felt that way," she said in a wounded voice. "No idea at all."

In her youth, Snape's bite was commonplace, legendary even, but she had long forgotten the burning feel of its venom. It was dismantling to say the least. Without meaning too, her thoughts and feelings surfaced in her deflated expression, satisfying Snape's need to win the disagreement.

"Are we finished?" he asked.

Unable to say 'no', the witch nodded.

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me," he snipped, resuming his course.

Hermione chewed over her next words carefully. She realized it was the equivalent to throwing a verbal snowball, but what the hell.

"Severus …" she called out.

The wizard halted, taking with it the effect of his swollen robe.

"_Merry Christmas_," she smiled.

Severus was numb to the salutation, but the use of his given name was galling. He was forced to remember that she was not a student and within her right to be informal. Still, the word struck him like a brick to the back of the head!

"Professor, what if you're wrong about me? And those boys? And Christmas! What if fate, or whatever it is that drives our existence, gives up on you the way you've given up on everything else …" she said quickly, her voice trailing at the end.

Snape slowly wheeled around, allowing his unruly locks to fall conveniently over his eyes. His face was neutral, but his lips trembled somewhere between fiery insult and silent scorn. He wasn't the least bit moved by her attempt to rail him into the 'moment', but it did give him cause to think. Knowing the good-doer the way he did, perhaps a splash of subtly was in order. It might be more effective than a contemptuous blast.

In a display of mock-genteelness, Snape swept aside his robe, folded one arm over his sternum, and bowed.

"Thank you for that touching display of concern, Professor, but the _Spirits_ of which you speak gave up on me a long time ago. They didn't give a flip about me then and they don't give a flip about me now. However, if you prefer to believe in such nonsense, be my guest. As for me, I have nothing to gain," he impassively replied.

Snape's bitter declaration pierced the veil between worlds and struck a blow to the heart of providence. In the span of a blink, everything he was, had become, and would ever become echoed through the Hall of Spirits and back again. Every soul that had ever crossed Severus Snape, felt the sting of his cry. Fate had dealt him a hard hand. This was true, but it was up to the wizard to make his life his own, to take responsibility for his actions, and to change his life – not destiny.

Hermione gasped when an unexplained breeze blew through the corridor, ushering in a cold mist from every direction. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

"Professor …" she muttered.

"It's not me!"

Together, the Professors drew their wands and readied themselves for battle. The breeze carried a soft voice, too soft for either to make out, but someone was definitely there.

"Who ARE you? Show yourself!" the wizard hissed.

Slowly, the mist contracted, drawing into itself the breeze and branches of vapor. It coiled around, becoming denser with each loop. Soon, a form began to take shape.

*Dong ... Dong ... Dong*

On the last stroke, the precise moment the clock struck 1:00 am, a mature woman with thick white hair emerged from the mist. She wore plain white robes, layered in the Roman-dignitary style and carried a silver lantern. Perhaps it was instinct, but something told Hermione to lower her wand. Snape made no such concession.

"Please do not be alarmed, Severus. I am the Spirit of Christmas Past, sent here to guide you on your journey."

Snape snorted for lack of a better response, although he found nothing about the woman's presence particularly amusing.

"Is this some kind of joke? Who put you up to this?" he snapped, noting that she too had addressed him by his given name.

"You claimed that the Spirits abandoned you … that we did not and do not care. I am here to show you the error of your ways."

Hermione's eyes flipped between the pair. How did she know that?

"Very good. You have excellent hearing, but I will ask the questions," said Snape. "Your name, Madam? How did you get into the school?"

The woman offered a pointless smile and said, "Please understand that no harm will come to you, but we must go. We have much to see. Take my hand ..."

Severus poised his wand.

_Bullocks._

"Professor, wait!"

_Stupefy!_

A stream of red light sprung forth and bathed the Spirit in magic. The Professors gawked in disbelief when the spell evaporated before their eyes. Neither had ever seen a spell dissolve.

"Please, Severus, we don't have much time. You will have two more visitors tonight, the Spirit of Christmas Present and Christmas Yet to Come. They will arrive soon. You must be ready."

"Granger," Snape said hollowly. "Come."

Hermione nearly toppled over herself when Snape snatched her wrist and yanked her forward. Together, they bolted down the corridor towards the Hall of Portraits. It was the quickest route to the Headmistress's chambers.

"I will wake the Headmistress, but I will need you to confirm what we saw! I can't have McGonagall believing I've gone mad!"

"Professor, I really don't think we should leave her alone," said Hermione, glancing back at the Spirit. "She could be dangerous!"

"I highly doubt it ... she doesn't have access to the dorms. I need you with me. We must find help if we want to battle a spell-dissolving Elemental!"

Hermione's eyes lit up. She had never heard of an Elemental.

"She's a what?"

Snape looked at his colleague peculiarly. It would seem the know-it-all didn't know everything. Obviously, she had never read, The Evolution of Magic, by Charles Dawkins. It was required reading for anyone interested in understanding the complexities of their world, what came before, and magical development after The Great Change.

"Then again, it may be a prank. I honestly can't say who or _what_ she is, but I am sure someone is behind all of this ... a student by the looks of it. When I find out who it is, I'll have them expelled!"

Severus and Hermione reached the Hall of Portraits. Still clasping his colleague's wrist, Snape passed under the arch and into another, wholly different passageway. Not only was Hermione unfamiliar with the scene, but her mind was spinning with questions on how they got there.

_This is NOT the Hall of Portraits_, she thought.

Snape observed the murky hall with startled eyes. Though it had been years since he walked it last, he knew it well. The scent of peppered beans filled the small area along with the faint odor of rotten firewood two doors down. A type of dark opera played loudly in the main quarter, while dishes chimed in the kitchen.

"Where are we?" Hermione finally asked.

"Home," answered Severus in a stunned voice.


	2. Journey into the Past

"Home?" said Hermione.

Snape's face twisted into a scowl. He hated it when people repeated him.

"Yes, home! Now, shush!"

Hermione wanted so badly to tell the wizard where he could stick his shush, but now wasn't the time. She quietly followed him down the narrow hall towards the glowing door at the end. It was easy to see that Snape was unnerved about something, but she couldn't fathom what. Unbeknownst to the witch, his nervousness sprang from when, not where. His house on Spinner's End was condemned and demolished after his service to the Order and the Dark Lord was finally over.

Snape crept up to the living room door and glanced inside. Just as he had feared, his father was there listening to his favorite record. He had been drinking again. There were empty bottles everywhere.

Hermione snaked her head around the Professor's body to find a slender, dirty man resting comfortably by the fire. She deduced by his cigarettes and clothes that the man was a Muggle. He bared a strong resemblance to the Professor, especially the nose. It was Snape's nose, only it wasn't on Snape's face.

"Who is that man?" She whispered.

Severus suppressed his irritation. Surely, the witch had deduced who it was already; however, it was the answer, not the question that annoyed him most of all. If Hermione could have seen his face, she would have seen nothing but shame and disgust.

* * *

"Eileen! Eileen! Where are you? Get your lazy arse in here!" the man shouted.

A dark haired, sallow-skinned woman entered the room from the kitchen carrying a dishtowel and plate. She looked demurely at her husband, hoping he wanted nothing more than another drink.

"Yes, Tobias?"

The wiry man sat up and scowled at his unattractive wife.

"Is dinner ready? I'm starving!" he belched.

"Yes, dear, five more minutes," she assured.

"Christ, woman! What the fuck are making in there – mint sauce lamb?"

"I'm heating up Christmas leftovers," she quietly answered.

"Leftovers? It's Wednesday, Eileen! We've had nothing but leftovers for three days! Have we nothing else to eat? When was the last time you got off your ugly arse and went to the market?"

Eileen bristled defiantly.

"When was the last time you gave me money to go shopping? Food isn't free, Tobias!" She spat.

Her husband sprang from his chair and crossed the room in three steps. Eileen instinctively pulled back.

"Are you getting mouthy with me? I slave for you and that fucking retard upstairs and you have the nerve to mouth off? This is MY house!"

Eileen dropped her eyes.

"That's right! Look away! You're supposed to be a fucking witch! You're supposed to be able to do MAGIC, but what have you ever done for this family! You're useless, Eileen – bloody, fucking useless! You and that idiot boy of yours!"

* * *

Snape pulled away from the door and leaned against the wall.

"Pro … Severus, shouldn't we go in there?" Hermione asked, earnestly wanting to help.

"If you wish to help, you cannot," said the voice of Christmas Past, earning her a surprised look from the Professors. "No one can see or hear you. These are but shadows of events that have already happened. You cannot change the past. You may only observe and learn."

Before Hermione could ask her next question, the Spirit answered.

"This is Severus's past, Hermione. You are only here because Severus needed you with him."

"That is a lie!" the wizard launched. "I do not want HER here! I don't even want to be HERE! Take us back. Take us both back NOW!"

"Is that so?" the Spirit said calmly. "Did you not say that you needed her with you?"

Snape balked.

"That's … that's not what I meant," he hedged. "And you know it! You ... you took what I said out of context."

"It makes no difference. She is here now and she is here to stay. You may obliviate her later if you wish, but we cannot leave until our business is finished."

"No one is obliviating me," Hermione intoned.

"Do you recall this, Severus?" She asked, moving into the sitting room where Eileen and Tobias were still arguing.

Snape followed the Spirit. It was very strange to see his parents again. They died in a car accident when he was nineteen. Tobias was driving. He suspected that his father purposely drove the car into the river, killing them both in one act. True – he couldn't prove it, but knowing his father's cruel nature the way he did, it was probable.

"No," he hesitated, unsure of himself and the Spirit.

He might as well cooperate for the time being. Nothing else made sense.

"Your parents argued like this often, did they not?"

"Yes," he answered.

Hermione's face flickered with retort, but she wisely kept her thoughts to herself.

"Then it must have been a relief to leave home to attend Hogwarts."

Snape said nothing. It was a redundant and forgone conclusion. He was ecstatic to leave. His only regret was that he had to leave his mother. Though he did not respect Eileen at the time, he came to understand her fear much later. She had trapped herself in a loveless marriage, abandoning all that she knew for a Muggle that treated like dirt. She was better and more powerful than he was, but she was also weak. She did nothing to save herself or her wizard-son.

* * *

"You're worthless!" screamed Tobias, striking the tearful woman across the face.

Eileen cradled her cheek and fell to the floor. Her submission did nothing to discourage her husband's wrath. He proceeded to slap and punch her repeatedly.

"Stop!" cried a small voice from behind.

Tobias spun around to find his six-year-old son gazing up at him tearfully.

"Please stop," he said again.

"Go back to your room you little shit," Tobias told him.

"Mum …" he called out.

"Do as your father says! Go upstairs!" She shouted.

Young Severus looked between his parents confusingly. Seeing this only enraged his father more.

"So that's how it's going to be, is it?" he laughed, slowly removing his belt. "You're just like your stupid mother."

The boy backed away, his eyes round with fear.

"Come here," he hissed.

Severus darted through the door, his drunken father in hot pursuit.

"Get back here, boy!" he yelled.

"Tobias!" Eileen screamed.

* * *

"We've seen enough," said the Spirit. "Let us move on."

The sitting room quickly dissolved around them, taking with it the sight of Eileen Snape crying on the floor. Hermione's heart went out to the woman, but not as much as the boy who bravely intervened. She quickly noted that none of this seemed to have any effect the Professor. He stood idly by, stone-faced as ever as the scene changed to a happier, more familiar place.

Twelve-year-old Severus Snape sat on the fountain in Hogwarts's courtyard. It must have been very cold, but the boy seemed determined to endure it. He was waiting for someone. He had been waiting for nearly hour, but he was sure she would turn up soon.

"Sev," said Lily, hurrying up to join her friend. "I'm sorry that I'm late. Professor McGonagall had a House meeting for the girls and well ... it ran over." She smiled.

Adult Snape drew a breath, which caught the ears of Christmas Past and Hermione. The mere sight of the redhead stirred something in him that no other memory possessed the power to do.

"That's okay – I haven't been waiting long," the boy lied. It was obvious by his red, runny nose and shiver that he had been.

"I've got something for you!"

Young Severus pulled out a small package wrapped in newspaper and paused regretfully.

"Um … I'm sorry I couldn't find anything better to wrap it in." He shrugged.

Lily's face lit up.

"Sev – I told you, no gifts!" She playfully scolded. "But thank you! What is it?"

"Open it stupid," the wizard chided.

Hermione chuckled. Even as an innocent boy, Snape was still Snape.

Lily tore away the newspaper and opened the box. Inside was a gem the size of an egg. The uncut, blood-red stone had just enough sparkle to glitter at an angle. Lily's face became cloudy with confusion.

"What is it?" She asked, holding it up to the light.

"It's a garnet! I made it. I can make all sorts of gemstones, but this one is your birthstone. It's still raw, but you can have it cut into anything you want." Severus said excitedly.

Lily lowered her arm and threw it around her best friend.

"Thank you, Severus! I love it!" She said, kissing him on the cheek.

The scraggly boy's face colored with embarrassment. He liked it when she did things like that, but he also hated it in a twelve-year-old way. He loved Lily. He always had, but it was still weird.

"You're welcome," he said bashfully. "Happy Christmas, Lily."

"Ooh, greasy Snivellous scored!" said Sirius Black from a distance. "Better sterilize your lips, Evans!"

"Yeah, go wash them!" Pettigrew followed, laughing unnecessarily loud.

* * *

"Spirit …" said Snape nastily, Hermione sharing in his annoyance. "Can I do nothing?"

The Spirit of Christmas Past shook her head no.

"Again, these are but shadows." She answered.

_Pity –_ he thought.

* * *

In a show of defiance, Lily turned from the snickering boys.

"Kiss me," she said, puckering her lips tight.

"What?" Severus blushed.

"Come on! Let's give them something to talk about!"

Lily quickly leaned forward, but Severus moved back, giving her the distinct impression that he did not want to kiss her in front of anyone. It was bad enough that his own housemates were spying on him from a nearby window, but Black and his idiot friends were there too!

"Sev! Just do it!"

"Um … maybe later – I'm really cold and I want to go inside. Let's go inside, Lil'!"

Lily frowned.

"Why don't you want to kiss me?" she said hurtfully.

"I … I just don't. Not in front of all these people."

"Severus," she said importantly.

Both adult Snape and young Snape winced. The only time Lily ever said his name that way was when she was mad at him.

"I think you're embarrassed by me!" She huffed, folding her arms across her chest.

"What? No!" the boy panicked. "I … I just don't know how! And I don't want to mess up in front of everyone. Please don't be mad at me."

Lily jerked her chin up and looked away.

"I'm going inside now," she announced.

The witch shot up and stormed off, giving Black and the others something else to "ooh" about.

"Wait, Lily! I'm sorry! Come back – "

* * *

Snape watched his younger self pursue the witch under the ridicule of Black and Pettigrew who were hurling insults at random. He certainly recalled the moment, but not the specific details or the look of hurt on Lily's face when he refused her. Oh, how he wished he hadn't.

"Why did you refuse her, Severus?" asked Christmas Past.

Snape looked incredulously at the woman.

"Isn't that obvious?" he said venomously.

"No – it isn't," she replied.

Hermione looked on without comment. All of this must have been very hard on the Professor, probably embarrassing too – why was Christmas Past showing him this?

"I didn't want too!" the wizard snapped.

"Was it that you didn't want too … or that you were too afraid?"

Snape clenched his jaw and grounded his heel into the stone. How dare she imply that he was a coward! Hadn't he already proven himself to the Wizarding World? He nearly died in service to it!

Christmas Past did not press the question for the look on her face said that he had answered it without realizing it.

"A wise man knows that opportunities, missed and seized, are the threads that weave our lives."

Snape considered the Spirit's meaning, but only vaguely. It was difficult to decipher her wisdom through the poppycock-goggles he was wearing.

"Let us continue …"


	3. Graveside Witness

Snape and Hermione appeared at a lonely graveside service. Young Severus was nineteen now and his parents had just died. No one was there. No one but him, a single neighbor, and his father's Priest. The clergyman sprinkled salt over the grave and read a few lines directly from the funeral rite. When he was finished, he offered the young man a solemn handshake.

"St. James Chapel is hosting a holiday supper, if you care to join us," said the Priest.

One corner of Severus's mouth twitched, but his expression did not change. He did not trust Muggles, any Muggle, Priest or no Priest. More importantly, he would never accept an invitation to dine with them. They were beneath him now.

"I have plans," he blandly replied.

"Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us."

With that, the Priest tightened his coat and disappeared into a haze of falling snow. The neighbor quickly followed, not wishing to be alone with the peculiar young man. Severus remained at the gravesite and privately paid his respects. The tombstones were plain, bearing only his parents names and date of death, but it was all he could afford. In many ways, Severus felt he had done too much for the man and woman who had treated him so callously.

"I hope you're at peace, mum. And father, I hope you never find it," he bitterly whispered.

The weather was harsh, but young Severus quietly endured it as he came to terms with their deaths. It had been unexpected, but not unforeseen. Somehow, he always knew they would never see old age.

* * *

"Severus …" Hermione said gently. "I'm so sorry."

Snape slowly glanced over, his lip curled in disgust.

"Whatever for? You saw what my parents were like. What do you have to be sorry about?" he sneered.

Hermione lowered her eyes. She only wanted to reach out to the Professor, but he would not accept her condolences.

"I'm sorry you lost them at such a young age and that you had to bury them alone," she clarified.

"I am not a man to be pitied," he replied, shrugging off the discomfort of her sympathy. "Pity is for fools!"

The Spirit of Christmas Past observed their interaction from a short distance away, but did not intervene. With every word, he was sowing his own shroud. Once again, spirit was offering Snape help and once again, he refused it.

"Severus?" said a small voice.

The dark young man standing in the snowfall turned around. He squinted to see what was out there, but the flakes of white and his uncontrollable tresses made it difficult to discern the figure. A few steps later, a beautiful woman with red hair came into view. His eyes changed in diameter, but not coldness. It was Lily. She had found him.

"Lily?" he said strangely. "What are you doing here?"

Adult Snape already knew the answer and closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to watch himself make the second worse mistake of his life. Hermione shared his trepidation, but for different reasons. She knew Snape once loved Harry's mother and that they used to be friends, but they had fallen out of favor in school. Harry never once spoke of a reunion, which meant whatever she was seeing wasn't good.

"I heard about what happened … Petunia, told me. I couldn't let you go through this alone."

Severus looked at the witch as if she had grown horns.

"I know we're no longer friends, but I had to stop by and offer my condolences. I am sorry for your loss," she said sincerely.

Severus clasped his hands together and pressed his index fingers to his lips.

"Really? You – Miss Pristine … Miss Perfect – you're sorry?" He darkly chuckled.

Lily frowned.

"I am sorry! And don't call me that!" she snapped.

"What should I call you then? Ah, let's see ... how about fake?" Severus put forth, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Or maybe … treacherous? Oh no, that will never do … I know! I will call you, Mrs. James Potter!"

Hermione took a deep breath. Snape would have been happy to join her, only he could not breathe.

"Severus, I came to make peace with you! Not to argue!"

"Are you saying that after years of alienation, you want to make up?" the wizard asked confusingly.

The witch folded her arms and looked away. No, she did not want to make up. They had gone their separate ways. He was now a Death Eater, an enemy by choice. They could never be friends again. Severus quickly sensed her meaning and nodded.

"I see. You don't want to be friends. You just want to score brownie points for being a Good Samaritan. You Gryffindors are all alike. You will stomach hypocrisy so long as the rest of the world thinks highly of you!"

Lily's eyes became slits.

"Ooh! It amazes me how you're able to twist things! Did the Dark Lord teach you that? To bend the truth? There is nothing hypocritical about sympathy," she said indignantly.

"Spare me your drool, Lil'!"

The witch gasped. Severus had never said her nickname so viciously before.

"Does James know you're here?" he asked, taking full advantage of her surprised state.

Hermione also looked on surprisingly. She didn't want think unkindly of Harry's mother, but in all fairness, she was rather full of herself. She knew that she wanted nothing to do with Severus, but she still wanted him to esteem her; at least, from the look of things. Maybe it made her feel good to know that she had a certain _power_ over him.

"No. He would never approve of me coming to see you. No one in his or her right mind would! You're a Death Eater, remember?"

"Is that the only reason?" said Severus.

Lily turned into the weather, preferring the frigid wind and snow to his sneer. Coming to see him was a mistake. She should have guessed he would react this way. Obviously, he had changed – but then, how could he not? He was a Death Eater now, a treacherous, snotty, blood-snob.

"It is the only reason that matters," she calmly answered.

The young wizard dropped his eyes and looked at his parent's headstones. She was right. They were on opposite sides. If anyone knew that he was conversing with a Muggleborn, Voldemort would have him flogged! Not that it mattered. He loved Lily. He would happily endure any amount of pain to have her back, but that was impossible. She had gone off and married the one man he hated with all his heart.

"You should go before someone sees you," he said dejectedly, still staring at the stones.

"Fine. I knew it was a mistake to come here," said the witch, turning to leave.

Young Severus shut his eyes, willing himself not to cry.

"LILY!" he shouted desperately.

The witch stopped and looked back. "Yes?"

After a deep breath, the wizard opened his eyes and looked over.

"Keep away … just keep away from me," he said under a raspy, jagged breath.

The order struck a blow to Lily's heart. She never once thought she would ever hear him say those words.

"As you wish," she replied, unable to see the look of anguish in the wizard's eyes through the wisps of dark hair blowing in his face.

* * *

Snape spun on the Spirit of Christmas Past.

"I am ready leave!" he demanded. "There is nothing left to see!"

Nodding, the Spirit heeded his request and lifted her lantern. The lamp brightened so fast and so brilliantly that it cast out the image of Lily Potter leaving young Severus alone in the cemetery. The Professors covered their eyes in an effort to protect themselves from the painful glare.

Moments later, the Spirit spoke again.

"You may look now," she said softly.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked.

They appeared to be in someone's basement.

"No, not here! Take us somewhere else, Spirit!" Severus said hurriedly.

Christmas Past declined with a headshake.

"There is one last thing you must see." She replied.

"I don't need to see it!" he snarled, glancing at Granger with a strange look. "I have hundreds of bad memories to choose from. We don't need to see this one!"

"Severus, you do not understand. We are not here to see bad memories. We are here to witness the choices you made in life. Not the choices of fate or any guiding force, but the choices you made and those made _unto_ you."

Snape filled with fury. He did NOT want to see this!

"He has seen enough," said Hermione, frantically defending her colleague. "He doesn't need to see anymore!"

For the first time, Snape was grateful to have Hermione there. He looked on distressingly, hoping the Spirit would adhere to her request.

She did not.

* * *

"Bring her down here!" Avery called out.

Twenty-year-old Severus and senior Death Eater, Rodolphus Lestrange stumbled down the staircase, carrying Cassandra Delaware. She had been kidnapped and tortured by Lord Voldemort for having delivered Death Eater intelligence to the Order. After the Dark Lord was finished playing her, he discarded the witch, handing her unconscious body over to his men. They were given strict orders to take her downstairs and dispose of her. She was a new recruit, an ambitious hopeful, but she had turned spy and paid the price.

"Just dump her there," said Avery.

Severus and Lestrange tossed the woman's motionless body onto the floor. "I suppose we can finish her off and leave her here," said Severus.

Lestrange and Avery looked at each knowingly.

"No – we're going to make nice, kill her, and deliver her corpse to the Order!" Avery laughed. "We'll be sure to include a note wishing them a Happy Christmas!"

Severus laughed, but only because he thought the wizard was joking.

"Undress her, Snape!"

Severus hesitated.

"What?" he said, still smiling.

"You heard me. Undress the witch! We can't very well do our business with her clothes on!" Lestrange said disrobing.

The wizard paled.

"That is not what the Dark Lord ordered us to do," he tensely replied, secretly wondering if he sounded lame.

"What's wrong? Can't get it up?" the wizards laughed. "That's fine – you can watch, BUT don't think you're getting out of toting her fat arse! Now, undress her or we will tell the Dark Lord how you refused to help."

Severus sank to his knees and slowly undressed the unconscious woman. He didn't know what else to do since he wasn't in a position to refuse a senior member of his inner circle. The Dark Lord would never stand for it. He might think he was trying to help the spy or worse, that he was cowardly.

After the woman was properly unveiled, Lestrange and Avery flipped a coin to see who would go first. Avery won the coin toss and had Lestrange roll the young witch onto her belly. Dropping to his knees, he made quick work of mounting her rear entrance.

"That's it," he moaned, gripping the witch's shoulders for greater control.

Severus did not watch. The act was vile beyond words.

* * *

Hermione turned away from the horrid scene the moment young Severus knelt to the floor to undress the woman. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she did not sniffle or give any outward indication that she was upset. She didn't want to make things anymore uncomfortable. Of course, she knew that Snape had been a Death Eater, but the glow of his heroism overshadowed the horrors of that fact. She and many others had convinced their selves he was a servant in name only; that he hadn't committed the appalling acts normally associated with them.

Snape observed his younger self with utter disgust, refusing once again to witness the scene. His presence and participation in the rape and murder of Cassandra Delaware was the source of horrific guilt and shame over the years. Although he had not participated in the actual rape, he was party to it and therefore guilty.

"Tell me, Granger ... do you pity me now?" he lightly asked; his voice void of any amusement.

"You didn't have a choice," she strained.

Snape considered this for a moment. The Slytherin in him told him to take advantage of the witch's mercy, despite her misguided notion, but the man he had become knew better. He had a choice. He always had a choice. He chose not to choose. He could see that now.

"Do not be so quick to forgive me," he whispered.

* * *

"Well, that was fun," said Avery, buttoning his robes. "Hurry up, Lestrange."

Seconds later, Rodolphus let out a husky, exaggerated howl and rolled over. Both young Severus and mature Severus swallowed to keep from vomiting.

"Take care of that will you Snape," said Lestrange, zipping his trousers.

Once again, Severus hesitated.

"Do it!" shouted Avery. "It's high time you lost your cherry!"

Adult Snape looked despairingly at the woman on the floor, something he had been unable to do in his youth. She was very much alive and beginning to come too. Her eyes widened with fear when she realized where she was and what was about to happen.

Young Snape withdrew his wand and aimed backwards, still refusing to look.

"Avada Kedavra!" he hissed.

A flash of green light illuminated the room.

"Woo hoo! Yes! You have been christened my boy!" Avery clapped. "This calls for a drink! We'll swing by the pub after we drop off our little friend here. Lestrange help me carry her upstairs."

"Why can't we just levitate her?" he asked, earning himself an 'are you stupid' look from his brothers.

"Magical trace you moron! Now get over here and help! Snape, go upstairs and bring the carriage around."

* * *

"May we leave _now_?" Hermione said tearfully, unable to hide her feelings.

Christmas Past turned to Snape.

"Severus, do you know why I showed you this?" she asked.

"Because you're heartless bitch," he replied.

The insult barely registered with the Spirit. The past could be loving and painful, but in this case it was simply the past. Something Severus Snape had not considered.

"Fate did not take this woman's life …"

"No – I did," he grimly admitted, observing Granger with air of shame. She glanced back, but her eyes did not harbor the same contempt.

"You facilitated the end, but you were not the cause." She gently put forth.

Astonished, both Professors looked up.

"Cassandra Delaware was an aspiring Death Eater. She chose to turn spy for the Order. It was her choice. She set in motion the events that led to her death. You did not seek to murder her nor did you desire it, though you did end her misery."

Snape nearly choked on his own salvia as he swallowed.

"Are you saying that I am not responsible? That I did not kill that woman?"

"I must impress upon you the importance of acceptance, not only of your actions, but the actions that are not yours. You have the power to change. You simply lack the knowledge. Do you understand?"

Snape chuckled madly.

"I understand that you're crazy!" he said harshly, still laughing.

Hermione, however, was not laughing. She understood. The error of his ways did not only apply to things he had done, but also the things he did not do and had no control over. He was in control of his own destiny, just as that woman had been. Nothing – not his childhood, greatest love, or his even his greatest sin could change that.

"Our time is at an end," said the Spirit. "We must return."


	4. Adoration Under Fire

The light from Christmas Past's lantern subsided leaving the Professors just inside the gates of Hogwarts. Slowly, Hermione and Snape opened their eyes and looked around.

"We're back," Hermione said relieved.

Turning, she searched for Severus, but the wizard was no longer by her side. He had already spun into action.

"We must report this to the Headmistress," Snape announced, speeding ahead.

"Professor – wait! Didn't Christmas Past say you would be visited by another Spirit?" she reminded, hurrying to catch up.

"Yes! That is why we must hurry!"

It wasn't that Hermione disagreed with the Professor, but maybe there was more to all of this than either of them realized. Maybe it was best to let things run their course. The pair was halfway down the path when they came upon a gold lantern in the road. Snape stopped abruptly, causing Granger to fall against his back.

"Oops, sorry …" she said ineptly.

Her awkwardness evaporated when she spotted the ownerless device in front of them. It was glowing. The lantern flickered in and out of brightness, but did not illuminate its surroundings.

"Do you think it belongs to the Spirit, "she whispered, kneeling down to inspect the portkey.

"DON'T touch that!" Snape snapped. "For all we know, it could be a trick!"

"Why ever would I want to trick you?" a jolly voice said from their flank.

Snape and Hermione swung around to find a short, portly man looking up at them with a ridiculously fat grin.

"Good evening! Or should I say, good morning!" the Spirit widely greeted, trudging up the snowy path. "I am the Spirit of Christmas Present! You must be Severus Snape and the lovely, Hermione Granger." He beamed.

Severus examined the Spirit from head-to-toe with a look that said, 'you can't be serious'. The man's eighteenth century wig matched his outdated clothes perfectly. He wore a red waistcoat trimmed in gold and fancy gold-buckled shoes. By itself that wasn't so bad, but the green britches, white stockings and green holly vest was a bit much. Severus thought he closely resembled wadded paper the day-after Christmas, only not as wrinkly.

The Spirit's festive appearance and warm greeting delighted Hermione. It was a welcome change from Christmas Past.

"The Spirit of Christmas Past warned … ahem, foretold your arrival," the witch informed, correcting herself mid-sentence.

"Ah, yes … good lass that one! A bit too serious for my taste, however. Say, I hope you don't mind, but I had to use your tree over there. I'm not as young as I once was and I don't hold my liquid as well as I once did," he chuckled, slapping his big belly for effect.

Hermione giggled, earning her a nasty glance from the Professor.

"Shall we get on with it?" the Spirit asked, stomping over to his lantern.

Snape folded his arms and scowled.

"What if I refuse? What if I don't want to do this anymore?"

Christmas Present let out a strenuous grunt as he leaned over to collect his lantern.

"What does want have to do with it? You have no choice, lad! You can come with me or I can go without you, but you will remain in limbo until the job is done!" He breathlessly replied.

"Limbo?" repeated Hermione, irking the wizard to her right.

"That means that you're both guests of the Spirit World until we release you. Run away if you like, but you'll find it to be a futile exercise."

Hermione and Severus shot each other a defeated look. They were stuck.

"Let's just get this over with," said Hermione, nudging the wizard gently.

Snape noted the witch's complete lack of empathy. It wasn't her life under scrutiny – it was his. Without answering, he gestured the Spirit to continue.

"Follow me!"

* * *

Snape and Hermione found themselves outside a cozy cottage on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. All of the windows were dressed in reefs and a big red bow hung over the front door. Snape didn't recognize the home, but that did little to soothe his nerves.

"Where are we?" he sullenly asked.

"This is the home of Harry Potter!" the Spirit cheerfully answered. "Have you never visited?"

Snape shook his head. Had he spoken, he might have upchucked the acid building in his stomach. He had received many invitations from the boy (now man) over the years, but he had yet to reply to a single one. Not that Severus was unappreciative. The ornate invites made excellent kindle.

Hermione grinned excitedly. She hadn't seen Harry in months! "Let's go inside," she said, leading the way.

Harry, Ginny, their children, and the Weasley's, gathered around a sumptuous table of Christmas fare. It was obvious by their laughter that were enjoying their selves immensely.

"Ooh, that's looks good," sighed Hermione, eyeing the enormous golden turkey wantonly.

"Hungry?" Snape teased. "Why don't you have some?"

"No! No! As with Christmas Past, they cannot see or hear you. Nor can you participate in any way," the Spirit instructed, deflating the witch's hope for a bite. "Besides, the food isn't really there. Technically, we are a few hours ahead. What you're witnessing is Christmas Dinner! Now, pay attention."

* * *

"Has anyone spoken with Hermione?" asked Ron.

Lavender, who was sitting across from her husband, frowned.

"Um, no – I haven't heard from her since she started Hogwarts." Harry answered.

"Do you suppose she likes teaching there?"

Harry looked at his wife and shrugged. He had to believe that Hermione enjoyed her work, otherwise she would have written by now.

"I guess so," he said.

"Harry, dear – "Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "Did you remember to invite, Professor Snape?"

"Yes. I invite him every year, but he never responds. I thought about visiting Hogwarts and inviting him personally, but I'm unsure how he'd react."

"Why do you suppose he doesn't want to come here? Is he too good to eat with the likes of us?" said Molly, seemingly affronted.

"I wouldn't take it personally – that's just the way he is. Snape is a private man." Harry defended.

The rebuttal earned him a nod of approval from the wizard standing in the corner of the room.

"I think he's just being rude!" Lavender put forth. "Face it – he's a crabby, greasy, old bat."

Most of the table chortled in support; Arthur and Harry, however, did not.

"He's nothing of the sort!" Harry bolstered. "He's just … he's just misunderstood."

"Oh come on – Harry! Snape hasn't changed." Ron said, agreeing with his wife. "After the war ended, he locked himself up in that school refusing to talk to a soul! Not even you! I just hope he retires before James, Albus, and Lily are old enough to attend."

Harry looked at his children. Thankfully, they were too young to understand.

"For their sake, I hope he is. They could learn a lot from him."

The sound of clattering forks, spoons, and knives came to a stop. Despite Snape's heroism, he was still an unpopular wizard. The war had not changed him. In fact, many believed him colder and more distant than ever. Perhaps that was due to the humiliation he suffered after his personal life became the topic of debate throughout the Wizarding World.

"Saint Harry Potter!" said George, holding his glass up. The joke drew a laugh from everyone, including Harry.

"No, seriously – Snape sacrificed so much … you can't help but love the man."

The laughter in the room slowly died. Even George stopped smiling, but only briefly.

"Love," Lavender snorted.

"Yes, love!" repeated Harry, the irritation in his voice heightened. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Who could ever love, Snape – Harry? I understand that he saved your life, but ... love?" Ron chided.

* * *

Christmas Present turned to Severus.

"Did you know that Potter felt such admiration for you?" he asked.

Snape bristled uncomfortably. Not only was he unaware of Harry's feelings, he did not want or deserve his adoration. He did what he did for Lily, not him.

"No." he said plainly, refusing to look at the Spirit or Hermione.

"Does it surprise you?" the Spirit continued.

"It disgusts me," he answered instead.

Christmas Present looked incredulously at the wizard.

"You never forgave Harry for being James Potter's son, did you?"

Snape slowly looked over. "What does that have to do with anything? Harry was an arrogant, disobedient, fool-hearted boy! It's difficult to tell whether he's still arrogant, but it's quite apparent he is still fool-hearted!" he hissed. "Love thy enemy – bah!"

Acting on sheer spontaneity, Hermione leaned over and walloped her colleague on the arm.

"Don't be so such a git!" She snapped. "Harry loves you for you! Heaven only knows why, but he does – you … you … ARSE!"

Severus cradled his arm and looked at Hermione as if she had lost her mind.

_Did she just punch me?_

"Sorry lad – but you had that one coming!" said the Spirit with a distinct twinkle.

"Don't encourage her!" Snape snarled. "And as for you …" he said dangerously. "So, I take it you agree with the family? There is no rhyme or reason to love me! Since that's plainly obvious, why should my rejection of his _love_ matter?"

Hermione sputtered for several seconds.

"W-what …? I never said that! That's not what I meant!"

"What did you mean, Professor?"

Smiling, Christmas Present crept out of striking range.

"I only meant that you make it impossible for people to love you! You push everyone away! Even those that you know have the best of intentions! You don't _want _to be loved. DO NOT confuse that with being unlovable!"

Snape arrested his surprise before it escaped. He hadn't expected an answer, much less that answer. Recovering quickly, he decided there was only one way to declaw a Gryffindor and that was to ask the hard questions.

"Are you saying you could love me, if I let you?" he quietly hissed, recalling a similarly galling question posed to Lily.

Put a Gryffindor to the test and they will fail. Hermione took the bait with a smirk.

Snaking up to the wizard so that their bodies nearly touched, she angrily whispered, "I _could_ love you!"

Severus searched the witch's face for any trace of deception, but found none. Her mind was open, not blocked by any walls and though he was too unhinged to discern his feelings, he was sure she was being sincere. The wizard soon found he was incapable of an appropriate response.

"Cat got your tongue?" said the Spirit, dipping his head between the pair.

Snape broke from Hermione's glare and sniffed.

"Don't be ridiculous," he recovered.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock – the clock is running! We must be on our way!" Christmas Present cheerfully informed.

Hermione waltzed from the dining area with a victorious smile, followed by a less than victorious wizard.

_She didn't mean it, _Snape told himself.


	5. Frost and Steam

The Spirit of Christmas Present transported Hermione and Severus to the Great Hall. The room was alive with children, teenagers, and teachers enjoying the annual feast. Hermione saw Hagrid, dressed like Santa, passing out presents to all the children that remained behind for the holidays. Minerva was also handing out gifts, but restricted gift giving to the older students and teachers.

"Oh, look – it's me!" Hermione pointed. "Wait … that sweater … ewe, am I really that fat?"

Severus rolled his eyes.

"Granger, I do believe the focus is me? However, since you asked, you always look that way," he stoically replied, observing the room with an indifferent glance.

"So you're saying I'm fat?"

Christmas Present moved behind the witch and signaled to the wizard. He was shaking his head fervently.

"No – you implied that, I merely agreed." He answered, ignoring the guide.

The Spirit visibly shrank. The wizard had no tact. It was no wonder he was sex-starved.

"I am not fat!" Hermione retracted. "I'm pleasantly curved."

Snape pursed his lips and arched his brow speculatively.

"In all the right places," she smugly added, turning away from the wizard. "What matters more is that you're not here – _Skeletor_."

"Spirit –"he said boorishly. "Why are we here?"

"Life, man – life! While you insist on hiding from the world, life is passing you by! Just look around at all the things you're missing!"

Snape appeared unimpressed.

"Are you saying that because I choose to devote my free time to the pursuit of knowledge that I am somehow causing irreversible damage?" he posed.

Christmas Present exhaled a weary breath.

"Time is a series of moments, Severus – moments that cannot be relived or recaptured. Once your time has passed, nothing will unlock its treasures. Do you understand?"

Snape folded his arms and peered down his large nose.

"I understand that you sound like Christmas Past," he quipped.

The Spirit chuckled merrily. "Well, then – take a gander over there! I believe Miss Frost has the answer you seek," he said pointedly.

Snape dropped his arms and billowed to the Slytherin table, followed by Hermione. He found his first year, Abigail Frost, sitting alone at the end of the table. She, like he, was the only half-blood in her class and for that reason, something of an outcast. Not that blood purity was as prized as it had been in the past, but some prejudices take time to fade.

Severus carefully observed the girl as she observed the door. Each time someone entered, she drew a breath only to have it die a slow death when the person she wanted to see did not pass through its arch.

"Why is she not sitting with the others?" He dimly asked, suspicious of the answer.

"I think you know," said the Spirit.

Snape shrugged off the insinuation. He did know, but it was easier to ignore. He was her Head of House, not her father and did not make a habit of coddling his students.

"Is Professor Snape coming?" Abigail said to a passing housemate.

Seventh year, Cedric Bones, offered the girl a strange, 'don't talk to me' look.

"Um, no … I doubt it. He never comes to the Christmas feast. Why?"

"No reason," she bashfully withdrew, petting her pocket unconsciously.

Now disenchanted with the celebration, the witch rose from the table and made a b-line for the great oak doors. Christmas Present gestured the Professors to follow.

The little girl walked steadily towards the exit until she reached the outer hall where she broke into a scamper. She dashed down the corridor, out of the door, and into the courtyard where she stopped at the stone fountain. Snape and the others caught up with the witch in time to see her remove something from her pocket. It was a red, semi-dull gem similar to the one Severus had given Lily as a child. Attached to it was a note that read, _Merry Christmas Professor Snape_.

Abigail's face twisted into a frown as she ripped the message into tiny pieces. Afterward, she cast the nugget into the water. The girl's generosity and reaction baffled Severus.

"It was a stupid idea, Abby," she told herself, sniffing from sadness and cold.

Hermione's heart went out to the young Slytherin. She knew her well and despite their House affiliations, she was very fond of Miss Frost. The first year was a bright, albeit quiet student with few friends; however, she was exceptionally respectful and mindful of everyone.

"Poor girl," she commented. "She was looking forward to seeing you, Professor."

Severus felt a twinge of guilt over Miss Frost's heartbroken expression. He knew that he done nothing wrong, but it plagued him nonetheless.

"She'll get over it," he said with confidence.

Christmas Present looked at the wizard knowingly.

"Will she now?" he said, harboring a secret.

Abigail looked back at the glowing windows of Hogwarts and sighed. No longer in the mood to celebrate, she initiated a walk towards the outer grounds. Maybe she would spend her afternoon exploring the lake and woods.

"Miss Frost! Where do you think you're going?" shouted Snape, but the girl did not hear.

"Severus – need I remind you? You are but an observer!"

"But she's not dressed properly …" Snape argued, struggling against the magic holding him in place. "And it's cold! Very cold!"

Hermione's eyes filled with warmth. His chivalrous streak, though slightly warped, was charming.

"Stop smiling at me you twit!" he sneered. "And you – Spirit, stop her! First years are not permitted to wonder the grounds unsupervised!"

Christmas Present studied the wizard closely.

"That is not my purpose," he put forth.

Snape looked back at his student. Her young form grew smaller and smaller with each step, unbothered and unnoticed by the staff and students inside.

"Will she be alright?" he asked worriedly.

When the Spirit did not respond, the Professors's mood shifted.

"Will she?" Hermione pressed, picking up where Severus left off.

Christmas Present drummed his belly nervously. Though he could not share her fate, the Spirit knew she was marked for something terrible.

"I am merely your guide …" he swallowed.

"SPIRIT –"Snape angrily launched.

Hermione joined her colleague, sandwiching the guide between their glares.

"What do you see in the foreseeable now?" she asked.

"_If_ events remain unaltered … I see a difficult New Year." He answered.

The Professors glanced at each other. 'Difficult' could mean anything, but something told them that it wasn't good.

"Our business here is finished," said the Spirit, holding up his lantern. "There is one more thing you must see."

* * *

"Spirit? Where are you?" Snape hissed, fanning the steam from his sight.

The jolly guide emerged from the mist. "No need to fret, lad – I'm right here," he said.

"Where is Professor Granger?" he quickly asked, noticing that they were shy one passenger.

The Spirit's face clouded with guilty glee. "Ah, yes … well … I thought it best to leave her behind this time. However, you needn't worry. She is safe and sound!" he smiled.

"I wasn't worried," Snape said unconcernedly. "Merely, curious – what it is this place? I can't see a blasted thing!"

Christmas Present led Snape through a steamy maze until they came upon a large room with several candles and a bathing beauty relaxing in an enormous tub. Blinking, Severus's stony expression morphed into a wicked grin. Immersed in hot bubbly water, hair wet, and eyes closed was Hermione Granger.

Severus chuckled.

"I see why you chose leave her behind – finally, a little fun!" he said, circling around the sunken bathtub for a better view. He may have been a celibate wizard, but he was still a man.

Hermione blindly reached over and picked up her wand. Flicking it once, she turned on the radio and scanned the channels until she came upon a familiar song playing on a Muggle-friendly station. At first, Snape cared nothing for her taste in music, but the sultry lyrics sparked an interest.

_I've been really tryin', baby_  
_Tryin' to hold back this feelin' for so long_  
_And if you feel like I feel, baby_  
_Then come on, oh, come on_  
_Whoo, let's get it on_  
_Ah, babe, let's get it on …_

Eyes closed, it wasn't long before Hermione began to sway.

"We're all sensitive people with so much to give," she sang, extracting an even broader grin from the wizard spying her every move.

"Having fun?" the Spirit laughed, rocking and swaying along.

If anyone knew how to have a good time, it was the Spirit of Christmas Present!

"This is too much!" clapped Severus, completely unaware of any wrongdoing.

The Spirit winked suggestively.

"It gets better! Just watch," he said, dancing to one corner of the room.

Hermione set aside her wand. Using one hand, she glided her fingers over her soapy breasts and toyed with her rose-colored nipples. She was gentle, gentler than her imaginary partner would have been in such a situation as she twisted and plucked them to erection. Freeing one hand, the witch then slid her palm into the bubbles. The water soon began to churn.

_Don't you know  
How sweet and wonderful life can be?  
Whoo-ooh  
I'm askin' you, baby  
To get it on with me  
Ooh, ooh, ooh_

Severus inched closer. This was a wizard's fantasy come true.

Clutching the tub, Hermione arched her knees so that they breached the water surface and swirled her hips. The wizard rewarded her efforts with a husky grunt. He was just a few bubbles shy from seeing the action live.

Severus willed his hardness to a semi-limp. Were he a typical man with less control, it would have ripped through his trousers.

Severus did not blink. He was honed on the witch's pistoning arm and curvy form churning in the hot water. Her fluttering eyelids, slack mouth, and rhythmic gasps gave him the impression she was on the verge of something indescribably good.

_You don't have to worry that it's wrong  
If the spirit moves you, let me groove you good_ ...  
_  
_

Hermione's moans became powerful as she viciously plunged into herself. Her breasts, head, and torso bounced against the attack. Albeit, with less force than the real McCoy. At was as if she was mimicking someone, someone intense and a bit wicked. Her goodie-two-shoe associates could never fuck that good.

Severus bit his fist, oblivious to the Spirit dancing in the corner. He was seeing Heaven through the bars of Hell, unable to act, unable to speak, but most of all, unable to share in the experience.

_Just let yourself go  
Let your love come out …_

Snape flinched when Hermione's eyes sprang open and filled the room with her orgasmic cry.

"That's it! Yes! Yes! There!" She sang, her head bobbing from the force. "Yes, Severus, yes…"

The wizard's fist soon became a shroud, covering his mouth and nose. A short distance away, he heard a hearty laugh; presumably mocking him, but he didn't care. He wasn't listening. He couldn't tear himself from the witch sputtering his name as her eyes danced.

Hermione breathed several more saturated yeses before relaxing into the water with a satisfied grunt.

"Thank you," she said to her imaginary lover.

Once it was over, the struck looking Professor rose to his feet and back away.

"Spirit …" he swallowed. "Was that ..."

Severus suddenly realized that he was dryer than a desert, completely unable to articulate himself – a real first for him. Chuckling, the Spirit of Christmas Present patted his shoulder thoughtfully.

"Real? But of course!"

The wizard began another question, but the Spirit quickly cut him off.

"It would be best if you figured that one out on your own," he winked.

Snape's face twisted into a pretzel. He had no idea what to think, how to react, or even what to say! Not only had he witnessed the unthinkable, but she said _his_ name. No, that's wrong. She called his name! No one had ever_ called_ his name that way.

Christmas Past allowed the wizard a moment to compose himself before he spoke again.

"Severus Snape our time is at an end," he soberly informed. "I bid you happy tidings and wish you well on your next journey. The Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come awaits _you_ …"

With those words, the steamy lavatory and all of its inhabitants slowly faded into black. It wasn't long before the confusing merriment Severus felt faded away. He was now alone with his thoughts. Soon a bright light pierced the darkness. Severus raised his arms and shielded himself from the glare. Peering through his luminescent fingers, he spied a tall, shadowy figure dressed in a hooded robe standing at the point of light. His grim silhouette gave Severus cause for pause, but the wizard did not react.

"I take it you are the Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come?" said Snape, erecting himself.

The Spirit nodded once.

"Very well, I am ready. Let us go now and end this wretched night!"

* * *

**A/C:** Thank you everyone for the feedback! Two more chapters 2 go :) Happy Holidays!


	6. Take It Back

Snape trailed Christmas Yet to Come through a thick, grey mist. Unlike his predecessors, the Spirit did not guide by lantern light nor did he offer any pearls of wisdom along the way. He was dark, depressing, and silent as the grave. It also seemed the Spirit preferred drudgery to portkey, which took its toll on the wizard already suffering from ghost-lag.

As Snape journeyed through the dismal fog, he considered his time with the Spirits. Christmas Past had showed him heartbreak and horror, things he never wanted to remember, things that had poisoned his mind and soul many years ago. Christmas Present revealed to him love, tenderness, and unimaginable lust; things he dared not imagine and others he could not. Had the wizard a mind too, he might have explored the reason for all of it, but at that moment, it was all just too fantastic to fathom.

Minutes seemed like hours in the timeless mist. There was nothing to see there. It was cold and lifeless, just the sort of place time would reside since time was ever changing. Grey clouds rolled above, below, and beside, revealing shadows of faces and events in the branches of its vapor. Some occasions were joyous, others were sad and mundane, but as it related to Severus, nothing. He saw nothing of himself, only the lives people he knew and had known.

_... You're worthless! screamed his father's voice._

Unnerved, Snape stopped and searched the fog. "Spirit …?"

... _Snivellus!_

_... Don't call me that! _

The Spirit turned halfway and waved the wizard forward. He either did not hear the voices or he did not care. The Professor hesitated. He wanted to end this, but not at the expense of his sanity.

"What is this place? Where are we going?" he asked, now fearful of what lay ahead.

Christmas Yet to Come did not respond. He simply continued, signaling the wizard to follow. Not wishing to be left behind, Snape did as he was instructed to do.

_... Kiss me, Sev …_

_... Keep away … just keep away from me … _

_... Take care of that, will you Snape? _

Severus covered his ears, but the voices became louder and louder. The mist was reacting violently to his presence.

_... Do it! shouted Avery._

_... Avada Kedavra!_

_... I must impress upon you the importance of acceptance, not only of your actions, but the actions that are not yours. You have the power to change. You simply lack the knowledge._

Severus Snape tried to continue, but soon found he could not. The voices were draining his ability to think. He was being forced to relive each memory. He felt every fear, regret, and painful occurrence like it was the first time. Even his greatest, most treasured ally was of no use. Occulmency was no match for the mist.

... _Snape sacrificed so much. You can't help but love the man..._

_... You never forgave Harry for being James Potter's son …_

_... It was a stupid idea, Abby ..._

_... Yes, Severus, yes ... _

_… Avada Kedavra! ... Kiss me, Sev … I could love you … You're worthless! _

Severus closed his eyes and cradled his ears. "SPIRIT … Stop this now!" he bellowed.

_... __A wise man knows that opportunities, missed and seized, are the threads that weave our lives._

"STOP!" roared the wizard.

Just like that, the voices were gone.

Breathing heavily, Snape softly thanked the gods of silence and rubbed his nose into the soft, cold dirt beneath his cheek. It took him a moment to realize he was in fact, on the ground. Slowly, he opened his eyes to find the fog had lifted.

"W-where are we?" he rasped.

The Spirit stepped aside and motioned.

Snape stood up and looked around, giving himself a moment to regain his composure. He would have been mortified had someone witnessed his collapse, but thankfully, no one but the Spirit could see or hear him.

"We're in a cemetery. How original," he sarcastically put forth, dusting off the dirt and smoothing down his robes.

The guide nodded and signaled for Snape to follow. Lucky for the wizard, the grim-looking Spirit didn't understand sarcasm nor did he care too. His only purpose was to guide lost souls.

The duo soon came upon a service with a sparse number of visitors. He could easily see that the person was either unknown or greatly disliked. The closer Snape ventured the clearer it became that it was his funeral.

Severus shook his head in mute mockery. Was this the terrible prediction? That he would someday die and few would honor him? He was an unpopular wizard in life so why should his death be any different?

"Is this it?" he chuckled. "Is this what you had to show me? Well, at least the casket is closed."

The Spirit turned to the wizard and tilted his head curiously. Still amused, Snape looked away and focused on the service. This wasn't going to be so bad after all.

*20 Minutes Later*

"Severus Tobias Snape …"

Snape cringed when he heard his full name said aloud for the hundredth time.

"Was a hero, a memorable wizard, and a fine educator," said Headmaster Flitwick. "He will be remembered by all that knew him as a man who … who ..."

The old wizard paused. He rehearsed the speech many times, but for some reason it wasn't coming to him as easily as it did during rehearsal.

"Who touch the lives of so many!" he recovered. "The Wizarding World owes him a great debt of gratitude."

Bored, Severus turned from the eulogy and scanned the crowd. Draco Malfoy was there, two of his former students, Hagrid, Pomfrey, some rogue he did not recognize, a much older but still attractive, Hermione Granger and the _Potters_.

"Is there anyone else who would like to say a few words before we close the ceremony?"

Severus closed his eyes in horrid anticipation when he saw Harry Potter step forward.

"I take it back, Spirit. I know now why you brought me here," he grumbled to the cloaked figure beside him. "To torture me."

"Thank you, Professor Flitwick," he said, assuming the podium. "Ahem, hello everyone, my name is Harry Potter."

The news reporter moved in closer and turned on his recorder. Harry shot the journalist a disgusted look, but his objection did nothing to discourage the man. He was going to get a quote from the infamous wizard if meant standing on his head in the mud. Harry rolled his eyes and focused on the handful of staff and visitors present.

"I knew Professor Snape probably as well as anyone could and I can honestly say he was a good man. Yes, I know. That word shocks almost everyone that actually knew him. The description 'good' and the name 'Snape' sounds like an odd combination, but it's true. He was not a cheerful man, a kind man, a particularly generous man, or a loving man, but he was still a GOOD man. I can say this because he dared to love once without condition or return. He risked his life to save the son of a man he despised and am I sorry to say, despised him for a time," Harry admitted, his eyes reddening as he said it.

"My one true regret is that I never had the opportunity to say _thank you_, or that I was sorry. Professor Snape would sooner hex me than to allow me close enough! So to show my appreciation of him and another, equally great man, I named my son, Albus Severus. I did so in honor of the two greatest and bravest men I ever knew ..."

Severus shuddered from the icy wind or so he tried to convince himself.

"Professor Snape lived, loved, and died _loved_, despite all of his misgivings. Rest in Peace, Professor. You will be missed."

Christmas Yet to Come tapped the wizard on the shoulder just as Harry was finishing his speech. 'It is time to leave', he indicated.

Snape turned from the service with a slightly different opinion of the wizard he had rebuffed for so long. Perhaps, Albus was right. Maybe he had more in common with his mother than just her eyes. Maybe some part of him was better.

Severus followed the spirit through the windy maze of tombstones and markers. He casually observed each one, noticing the names of acquaintances and the date of their deaths. It was only natural for him to be curious. The information might prove useful one day. Snape stopped dead in his tracks when he came upon a name he hadn't expected to see.

"Spirit," said the wizard, moving closer for a better look.

The Spirit paused briefly.

_In Loving Memory ..._

_Abigail Frost_

_April 23, 1999 – December 25, 2010_

_No …_ he told himself as he ran his hand over the corroded date.

"You have to take me back. I must go back," Snape demanded. "I can stop this. You have to let me stop it!"

The Spirit held up a cloaked finger and shook his head. He had one last thing to show him. He would not release the wizard until they had completed their journey. Frustrated but unable to refuse, Snape reluctantly turned from Abigail's grave and followed the Spirit into the mist.

* * *

Christmas Yet to Come led the wizard back to Hogwarts. Black banners with Snape's name and the seal of Slytherin hung from every rafter in the Great Hall next to the holiday decorations. Black cloths, special green candles, and silver arrangements decorated every table. Though the theme was mournful, Snape looked on appreciatively. He always imagined the school, particularly Gryffindor House, celebrating his death but instead, he was being respectfully remembered.

"Well, apparently I did something right," he chortled.

The Spirit did not comment. Not that Severus expected him too.

Snape's eyes soon fell on a silver-haired, Hermione Granger dining at the High Table. Apparently, she stayed and made a career of teaching at Hogwarts. Impressive, considering he never thought she would last the term. Teaching seemed like a fruitless pursuit for a witch of her caliber.

"I see, Professor Granger is still here ..." he said with more delight than he realized. "And Firenze ... Sinistra ... Trelawney - _Merlin, she's old _... Vector ... of course, Flitwick ... Longbottom? _Who? _Ugh! That stinks of McGonagall!"

"Spirit ..." said Snape, turning to the cloaked figure. "I find this all very entertaining, but why are we here? Obviously, I can no longer do myself or anyone else any damage."

Slowly, the Spirit turned and pointed to the door. Sighing, the wizard followed his lead to the courtyard. At first, he saw nothing of interest. Just the usual brand of students conversing merrily in their groups; however, upon closer inspection he caught a glimpse of man standing near the fountain with his back turned. He was unaccompanied and seemingly unengaged.

"Who is that?" he said, squinting for a better look.

The Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come pointed. 'Go,' his gesture said.

Snape did as he was told and walked towards the man. The closer he got, the more familiar the form became.

"I see nothing of interest here," he announced, refusing to go any further.

The Spirit quickly moved into Severus's path when he tried to leave. 'Go!' his finger furiously pointed.

Swallowing, Severus turned back. He quietly observed the lonely figure for a moment. Dozens of students must have passed, but no one seemed to notice him. Though he had no voice, the figure appeared to be pleading with them. He was pleading for someone to stop, but no one offered him so much as an upturn glance. The wizard's blood cooled as the mystery of the man's identity faded.

_It can't be ... _

His heart all but stopped when the dark man turned around and his eyes met the eyes of his ghostly self.

"No! I died ... I was dead!" Snape launched, spinning on the Spirit. "I have no unfinished business!"

Christmas Yet to Come signaled to the ghost of Severus Snape standing pukely in his own misery. He was dreadful looking, more dreadful than he had been in life. He was thinner, paler, and more ghoulish than his corpse was at that very moment. A rusty chain underneath his robe told the story. Misery bound him to earth. Unlike the ghosts of Hogwarts, Snape was unseen and unheard, unable to participate in the lives he distained when he was alive. He was not so much a ghost as a prisoner of his own nature.

Severus became unhinged when he saw himself pathetically mouth the words 'help me' to a passing student.

"No!" he cried. "Never!"

Snape wheeled on the Spirit, but the guide, along with the school had faded into the mist. "Spirit!" he called, ravenously pursuing him into the fog. "Where are you? Do not leave me without an explanation!"

Heeding his desperate request, the mist responded.

Soon the fog became a house of scenes, flashing with strobe-like speed. It revealed to him his entire life and all he denied, the opportunities he missed, but most of all the misery he embraced. That life was followed by a lonely death and scenes of a future self roaming the halls of Hogwarts. Snape saw his image desperately pleading with Hermione and others, even Longbottom, to speak to him, to offer him an ounce of comfort, but there was none to be had. Many times, he saw his ghost pointlessly trying to pry the chains from his body, but nothing, not even his most heartfelt plea would unlock them. Year after year, holiday after holiday, Severus Snape endured until one day his ghostly image withered into a hollow, catatonic entity that drifted aimlessly through the corridors.

"Take it back," said the wizard, sinking to his knees in defeat. "Take it back ..."


	7. Christmas Canon

"Professor …?" a small voice said.

Severus slowly opened his eyes to find two Hufflepuffs gazing down at him confusingly. He was kneeling in the same corridor where it all began.

"Sir …"

The Professor snapped to his feet. "Cullen … Bennett ... I thought I told you to go to bed," he said, disguising his disorientation with annoyance.

"Um … we did – it's morning, Professor," answered Cullen. "We were on our way to Christmas Brunch when we saw you here. You were mumbling something strange so …"

"Thank you …" Snape said gruffly, cutting the boy off mid-explanation. "Twenty points to Hufflepuff for your ... _concern_. Now run along."

Shocked, the boys accepted the award with a nod and turned back down the hall. They had no idea what prompted the ill wizard to be so generous, especially after ripping the points away just hours earlier, but they would not press their luck by asking!

"What was that all about?" asked Bennett, peeking over his shoulder.

"Don't bloody know and I don't bloody care!" said Cullen, rushing his friend down the corridor.

Snape clutched his forehead in an effort to ease the horrible pain brought on by time travel. It felt as if he had lived a hundred years in a single night.

_Was it all a dream? A concussion, perhaps? Did I fall and hit my head?_ He asked himself, rabidly inspecting his person. He paused in astonishment when he noticed the stains of dirt on his knees.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," said Granger, startling the wizard. "Is everything all right?"

Severus flipped his lank sling over and met the witch with a troubled look.

"What's wrong with you?" she laughed. "You act as if you've seen a ghost!"

"How long have you been here?"

Hermione's brows furrowed.

"What are you talking about? I was on my way to the Great Hall when I spotted Cullen and Bennett sprinting from the corridor. They said you slipped … or something," she awkwardly smiled.

Snape studied his colleague. It soon became clear that she had no memory of what happened. The Spirits must have erased her memory. Rolling his shoulders, Snape settled on a saving response.

"How long have you been standing there," he said more civilly.

"Oh …well, like I said, I was just on my way to the Great Hall. Are you feeling well? You seem a bit out of sorts."

The wizard never heard the question.

"Have you seen, Miss Frost?" he blurted.

"No – no, I haven't." more convinced than ever that something was wrong. Not only did he sound concerned, but he refused to make eye contact. "Seriously, are you –"

Before the witch could finish, Snape circled pass and billowed away.

"… okay?" she quietly ended.

* * *

Snape hurried into the Great Hall. He looked for Abigail at the Slytherin table, but saw only her half-eaten plate.

_The courtyard!_ He thought, hastening back down the corridor.

The Professor blew through the doors to find his pupil, Abigail Frost, standing by the fountain. She had just removed something from her pocket.

"Miss Frost?" he calmly inquired, approaching the young Slytherin.

Abigail flinched and spun around. She was surprised to find her Head of House standing behind her with a peculiar look on his face.

"Er … hello, Professor," she said, cramming the gift back into her coat. "Happy Christmas!"

"Thank you … to you as well," he awkwardly put forth. "What are you doing outside?"

The young girl shrugged. She didn't want to lie to a teacher, especially her Head of House, but she couldn't tell him the truth. It was just too embarrassing.

When Abigail became a Slytherin, she made it point to familiarize herself with every detail of Snape's legend, including his unpopularity in school. She knew that he was a half-blood, which made it enormously easy for her to respect him. If anyone could relate, it was the Professor, but she did not want to appear weak, or worse like a crybaby. She wasn't a crybaby. She was just tired of being shunned by her housemates.

"I didn't feel like being inside," she answered, purposely averting her eyes. "It's noisy."

"Noisy?" he repeated.

Severus knew the witch was lying, but decided against his usual methods for extracting the truth. Instead, he sauntered over to the fountain and sat down. Not only was he exhausted from his journey, he hoped a less stern approach might help to put the girl at ease. He, more than anyone, understood her plight. He too was a half-blood in a House dominated by purebloods. He worked very hard to win their approval and eventually overcame their prejudice, but not before experiencing some of the same hostility she was experiencing now.

"Sit," he said, gesturing delicately to the stone beside him. "Um, ahem ... please."

Abigail joined her Head of House. For a short time, they observed the snow covered grounds in silence. It was strange to have Professor Snape outside, casually sitting in the courtyard like a regular student, but the rarity of it made her feel special. How often did he kick back with a first year?

"Miss Frost …" he said cautiously. "I think I know why you're here …"

Abigail's face colored.

"You do?" she said, her mind conjuring the worst humiliation imaginable. No doubt, he thought she was a thin-skinned twit!

"To be a Slytherin, you must be many things," the wizard said nobly."You must be clever; resourceful, gifted, independent ... _inventive, _but most of all, confident. The fact that you were sorted into Slytherin, suggests that you are these things ... perhaps, more."

Abigail crooked her neck so she could see the Professor's face. Though he maintained a strict countenance, refusing to notice her noticing him, he gave no indication that he was being sarcastic.

"One of your teachers mentioned recently that you were bright and respectful, perhaps too bright to be misled by archaic and idiotic principles. You have done nothing to warrant any mistreatment, but if your are experiencing problems, you would do well to view it as opportunity disguised as hardship."

The witch shot her Head of House a ridiculous smile.

"It's true," he said, cutting her hard but meaningful glance. "I was very unpopular in school, probably more than anyone realizes. Though I wished for better parents … another face … more friends, nothing given could ever replace or surpass what I earned. It took time and a lot of work, but eventually I gained the respect of my peers. However, I realize now that it was more than that. I learned how to be strong."

"Are you saying I need to be strong? I mean … if you were saying that, because there is no reason to believe that I'm not, but if you were … is that what you're saying?"

The wizard restrained a chuckle.

"Yes, that is what I am 'saying'. Miss Frost, I have no doubt that you are and will continue to be a fine edition to Slytherin. You need only believe it. In time they, whoever _they_ are, will believe it too."

Abigail slowly looked away.

"But what if I can't … what if I can't be like you?" she said, studying the grounds.

Instinctively, the Professor knew the answer, but he paused to consider her face. Frost was a bright, vivacious girl. No doubt she would blossom into a bright, spirited woman with many friends and twice as many suitors. Had he acknowledged her troubles sooner and attended to his duties as her adviser, he could have spared her from feeling isolated. He would certainly keep a closer eye on her in the future.

"Then be better …" he quietly proposed, observing the girl with a half-smirk. "Be who you are."

Abigail slowly looked up and for a brief second, locked eyes with the wizard. Despite the wintry breeze and snow all around, she felt cozy and warm. It was like being curled up next to a hearth with a cup of coco, only better.

"Sir …" she shyly broke. "I have something for you. It's not much, but I want you to have it."

Abigail reached into her pocket and pulled out a dull red gem.

"I made it," she informed, gently placing the stone into the wizard's hand.

Severus stared blankly at the gift and the small hand that gave it to him. He was taken back by her petite fingers over his sallow clutch.

"It's a garnet. It's your birthstone!"

It was just like the one he had presented to Lily so many years ago.

"I … I don't know what to say …" he coughed, looking to and from the gem as if was the first and last gift he had and would ever receive.

"Say you like it," she suggested.

Right then, the Professor was reminded of something the Spirit of Christmas Present said to him, forcing the corners of his mouth to twitch unexpectedly.

"I will treasure it always," he said, unable to look his student in the eyes.

Abigail grinned.

"I guess I should go back inside. Are you planning to stay, Professor?"

"No," he replied slowly. "I have plans."

"Oh, okay … well, if I don't see you again …"

"Don't –"the wizard started, quickly catching himself. The mere thought was enough to spark a reaction. "Don't be silly, Miss Frost. I will see you and your housemates before lights out. Do enjoy your holiday."

"Thank you, sir," the girl smiled.

Abigail walked away, leaving her Head of House to contemplate the tragic accident he helped to prevent. If only everything could be so easy.

"If only everyone could be so agreeable," he mumbled, reluctantly standing up. "Just a few more things to do."

* * *

Snape apparated to Potter's cottage just outside of Godric's Hollow. Standing at the gate, he could hear voices inside; laughing and talking, making the better part of him cringed with uncertainty. He wasn't in the habit of making new friends, particularly with old enemies, but if he understood the Spirit correctly, this was one mends he had to make.

"James, if you can hear me, do not think for one goddamn second this changes anything between us! I would rather haunt Riddle's corpse for all eternity than forgive you," Severus intoned.

The afternoon breeze had become blustery. Snow, ice, and a spot of magic gusted through the streets of Godric's Hollow carrying with it the smells and sounds of the holiday.

~0~

_We are waiting ... _

_We have not forgotten ..._

_~0~_

In the distance, a chorus sang, summoning Snape's attention to the Village's glow.

~0~

_On this Night, On this Night, On this very Christmas Night … _

_On this Night, On this Night, On this very Christmas Night …_

_~0~_

"Professor Snape?"

Snape released the breath he'd been holding and spun around. Before him, just a few feet away, lay the pair of eyes that started it all. The wizard observed his young nemesis through a gutted glare as he fumbled for an appropriate excuse. He had one prepared, but for some reason his mind had gone blank.

"Sir … is that really you?" said Harry disbelievingly.

He had to wonder if George had slipped something extra into the eggnog that year.

"Of course, it's …" Severus sneered, before remembering himself and the purpose of his visit. Insulting the host before burying the hatchet might prove counterproductive.

Undoubtedly, Potter found his sudden appearance shocking after so many years. Even stranger still, to discover him mulling outside his fence must have been mind boggling. Snape didn't hold much hope that the boy's ability to cope had improved very much, whatever his age.

"…late," he said, changing direction. "But your invitation didn't specify a time."

Harry's face lit up.

"Uh ... no, no it didn't! Its fine – really, I'm glad you're here. Come inside!"

Snape quietly braced himself for the worst and followed Potter into the cottage. The home was exactly as it had been during his first visit, making the furnishings, voices, and smells surreal.

"Everyone," Harry announced, "Look who's here! Professor Snape has decided to join us!"

One by one, the table fell silent. Molly, Ron, and Lavender were among the most surprised to see the dour looking Professor standing bravely, albeit falsely courageous, in the entrance way.

"Good afternoon," he coolly remarked, bowing slightly. Family, friends, and a house full of die-hard Gryffindors was enough to make any Slytherin faint.

"Sit, Po-fessor!" said Harry's daughter with a distinct giggle. She was enamored by his dark clothes and even darker temperament.

Harry smiled and looked over.

"Um, that's Lily. She's my youngest. Oh, and that's Albus my middle, and James, my eldest." he introduced. "I think you know everyone else."

While Snape quietly recovered from his shock of it, he observed the adorable redhead with an uncharacteristic smile. For whatever reason, he hadn't noticed the little girl the first go-around.

"Is that seat taken?" He gently asked, gesturing to the empty chair beside her.

Lily shook her head.

"Oh – um, Professor you don't want too –" Potter worriedly began. Lily was known for spilling things.

"This will do nicely," the wizard replied, cutting Harry off.

If he had to endure the Gryffindor feast and subsequent patch-work, he might as well be seated next to a soothing face.

"But she spills things!" said Ron, scooting down to make room for the Slytherin.

Snape ignored the warning, sat down, and unfolded his napkin. "Then you two must get along famously," he retorted, glancing down at the smiling witch gnawing on her biscuit.

Smiling, George threw a pea at his frowning brother while Harry seated himself at the head of the table. After everyone was situated, he lifted his glass for a toast.

"To time …" he began, pausing long enough for everyone to join in.

The members of the table set aside their forks and raised their glasses. Looking decidedly uncomfortable, Severus reached over and gingerly picked up his glass. He silently prayed for a sensible toast that didn't involve him having to respond.

"No matter how much of it goes by, it is never too late to start over," said Harry, meeting Snape's eyes with a meaningful smile.

"To time!" said the table.

* * *

Bundled tightly, Snape hurried into the school and slammed the entrance door.

"The bloody North Pole doesn't have a thing on Scotland in winter," he griped.

"Then why did you go outside?" asked Granger from a short distance away.

Severus crooked around and removed his gloves.

"Really, did you actually think it was going to warm up?"

"No ..." he slowly replied, his eyes flickering over her clothes. They were faded, worn, and very form fitting, but surprisingly nicer than the bulky, holiday skunk she was wearing that morning.

"Oh, this ..." she said, noticing him noticing her faded t-shirt and sweats. "Filius spilled pudding on my sweater earlier."

A sudden flashback of her bathing to a Muggle-ditty seized the wizard's ability to speak.

"It's unlike you to stay out so late. Did you have a good time?" asked Hermione, innocently disguising her curiosity as small talk.

"I suppose ..." he replied. "Although a day with the Potters hardly qualifies as good."

The witch's eyes rounded.

"You're lying!" she spat, hurrying up to inspect the wizard more closely. "Well, you certainly do smell like a Potter. The honey and cinnamon are a dead give away!"

Severus frowned.

"I mean … what … why …"

"Please explain to me how that's any of your business?"

Hermione's eyes became slits. "I KNEW IT! I knew something was wrong! I could tell by the way you were acting this morning! Spill it … spill it now or … or …" she laughingly threatened.

"Or you'll do what, Miss Granger?"

The witch folded her arms and huffed. She just had to know. If not, her insane lust for knowledge or in this case, nosiness would keep her awake all night! What would ever possess Severus Snape to visit Harry Potter?

"Maybe you should run along and think it over … perhaps, in a bath … with candle light and music …"

Hermione's cheeks became as red as rubies. Impossible! She warded the lavatory with six different charms, including two silencing spells! Moreover, he was gone all afternoon.

"What are you talking about?" she said defensively, completely unaware that she was giving off a _guilt-as-charged_ vibe.

Severus relished in her nervousness. He had her just where he wanted her, undone.

"Nothing … it was merely a suggestion," he sighed, discreetly flicking his wand from beneath his cloak.

Hermione, who was far too preoccupied to notice, returned to the task at hand. Discovering the reason behind Snape's visit!

"Seriously, why did you visit, Harry? And how is he doing? I haven't spoken with him in ages! Were the Weasley's there? Did anyone ask about me?"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin! Yes, the Weasley's were there. Your entire circle was there! The Potters are well and they send you their … _love_," he said in a nauseating tone. "As for my reason, sufficed to say, that it is and will remain personal."

"Oh … well, I'm sorry I missed it," she said disappointingly. "I had to stay and help Filius with the Christmas performance."

"I assure you, Miss Granger, most of the afternoon comprised of chatter about Molly Weasley's most recent foot fungus, George's latest venture in artificial feces, Ron's insatiable appetite, and Harry's inability to string up lights properly!"

Hermione laughed. "I know! That's what I miss," she smiled.

Snape shook his head. It baffled him that she found that sort of mediocrity appealing. The only bright side was that he didn't have much to live up too.

"Anything else ...?" she asked, hoping for a scrap of news. She adored Christmas, but the children and festivities left her craving something more adult. Had there been any new pregnancies; marriages, careers, accomplishments?

Snape shook his head and watched the witch deflate.

"Well, good night, Professor. I'm glad you had a Merry Christmas," she said amidst a turn.

A pale hand quickly shot out and grabbed the witch by the arm.

"Hey!" she hissed, before a pair of cool lips stole her breath. Severus held Hermione's face steady as he kissed her somewhere between soft and lustily, unwilling to deepen his exploration for fear of losing control.

Minutes, maybe hours later, the wizard released her. He opened his eyes to find a pair of stunned brown orbs gazing up at him with a question that would need answering. There was no way to be certain if he had the best or worse mistake of his life, but he was sure that it had been irrevocably changed that day.

"Tradition," he aloofly replied, jerking his chin and eyes upward.

Hermione slowly looked up to find a patch of mistletoe hanging overhead.

"Merry Christmas, _Hermione_," he cordially added, retiring from her gawking line of sight.

* * *

**A/C:** Christmas Canon, performed by Trans-Siberian Orchestra :)


End file.
